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“The big parts of the story take up so much space don’t they? The darkness is in there. It was, and still can be all consuming if I’m not intentional about making choices that keep me well. I left 18 months ago. The initial feeling of safety and freedom was quickly replaced with overwhelm and fear. I felt totally lost, incapable, and afraid of doing life. Everything from choosing my clothes to ordering off a menu felt too big for me. The feeling of hopelessness became all consuming. This was the opposite of what I imagined leaving would bring me. I felt broken, worthless and completely stuck.

I kept on going. A steady ‘three steps forward, and two steps back’ recovery pace was set. It became evident early on that my success would be determined by my willingness to ask for and receive help. I had no choice but to trust the people that I had been so blessed to have come into my life. I was desperate to be well, and never go back to my old life. I’ve done everything that I’ve been told would get me well. A little at a time I’ve crawled my way out of broken, worthless and stuck.

I’m reaching. I’m hopeful. I’m strong. I’m loved.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being able to make those four statements about myself a short time ago. Gratitude fills me.

All of that is more than enough, more than I’d hoped for when I left. The big parts of my story now take up less of space in my mind. This leaves room now to see the little parts. I see them through cracks mostly….they feel far away. It’s possible that it isn’t that they are so little, as much as it is that they are far. The light is in there. My little girl dreams. My creativity. My sense of humour and adventure. My very big, mushy, loving heart rest in the far away, little parts, beyond the cracks. Every so often a crack quakes open and a moment of clear mindedness fills all of me. It takes over. I observe colour and sound through eyes that have looked through the dull for so long, that the experience of it briefly lifting moves me to tears. I see a tree and really see it. The moon over the water, while canoeing on a northern lake at night time. The sound of water rushing through rapids. I feel a connectedness and belonging during these times. All of this moves me beyond words. I breath and gulp these moments while they are there and then they are gone. They come more and more often. I’ve struggled to explain what is happening to me, and have looked to others to help me understand.

I know. I get it.

The tears are not sadness. The experiences of clarity and connectedness are not moments of delusion.

This is what joy is.

I have joy.”

Shannon L.

Each Friday we share good news from and/or about our clients. Today’s blog post is from Shannon L. It’s deeply moving, beautiful and full of hope. Shannon – thank you for sharing this incredible awakening as you travel along your path.

Please share with others who you think might benefit from reading her words.